


Evacuee

by snarkstark



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, England (Country), Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Townie Steve, World War II, countryside AU, evacuee AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 13:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10247315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkstark/pseuds/snarkstark
Summary: “Have you packed your bags, Steve?”“That would be a waste of time, Ma since I’m not going,” Steve replied politely, setting the dish he was washing down since he could sense a debate coming on.The countryside was a foreign place, but unable to fight, Steve Rogers is evacuated to live with the Starks. But as his stay continued, no-one could blame him for getting attached to Tony.





	

“Have you packed your bags, Steve?”  
“That would be a waste of time, Ma since I’m not going,” Steve replied politely, setting the dish he was washing down since he could sense a debate coming on.  
“Steven Rogers, we have already discussed this. Sit your ass down and listen to your Mother.” Sarah Rogers was never one to take any bullshit, especially from her son. 

“But Ma,” Steve totally didn’t whine like a child, “Bucky’s already shipped out! I need to do my duty and fight, not cower in the country with some farmers.” Steve scowled, crossing his arms.  
“Steve, I know it’s hard for you, but you can’t sign up. You’re not of age, neither was Bucky, the stupid, brave boy, but there’s simply no way you’ll be able to sign up with the host of medical issues you have, and you know that.” 

The skinny boy looked down at his feet. knowing that he was wrong and loathing to admit it. "It's not fair." He stressed, frustrated and angry at the world in general for the hand he'd been dealt. 

"I know, Steve. Go pack your trunk, please."

"Yes, Ma." 

*

The train station was overwhelming, thick black fog invading his lungs and riling up his sickly chest. He clenched his trunk handle tightly, the cardboard gas mask swinging around his neck and hitting random passers-by while he shoved his way through the crowd. One one hand, he could duck under people's arms, on the other he had no clue what direction he was headed in. 

By some miracle, he found his train and slumped down in the first compartment he came across. His heart was aching and it had nothing to do his conditions. Steve wouldn't see his Ma or London for at least a month, and it was a struggle to resist the temptation to jump off the train and stay before it was too late. 

He probably would've if he hadn't promised his Ma to be safe and sensible. What kind of man wasn't honest?

His stomach sank lower and lower as the train started moving, and slowly but surely the sight of grey buildings and familiar roads gave way to trees and... Was that a cow? And sheep? God help him. 

Steve fiddled with his gas mask box and label, read a little of the book he had brought with him, and watched his life slip further and further away. He cursed every single Nazi in his head, damning them to Hell where they belonged. Despite the mind-numbing boredom, Steve wished the train journey could go on forever so that he never had to face what was on the other side. Staying with some random strangers, probably sleeping in some barn with the horses. Who knew? The lack of information that he had about where he was going unnerved him, he always liked to have a plan. (And a backup plan. And a backup plan for the backup plan). 

The boy winced as the train rolled to a stop, sliding out of his seat and swinging his luggage around. It was a relief to spot other refugees coming from different carriages. So strange that it he suddenly felt safer knowing that other people were going to suffer being stuck out here, too. The group of children, maybe thirty of them in all, were called over and sat on benches. In was unnerving being in what looked like a lineup, tags on display. 

Families, couples, and sometimes just singular people turned up, talking with the lady who had rounded them up before they selected a child and walked off. It made Steve's blood boil - they weren't pets! To be examined and chosen from like a litter of pups! He noted that girls were chosen far more often than the boys, hearing phrases about, 'good behaviour'. He realised that, put eloquently, he was shit out of luck when it became apparent that they countryfolk either wanted to house a kind girl or a strong boy to help with the farmer.

If you hadn't guessed, Steve fit neither description. 

He was ignored until there were only around seven of them left, when a tall man with a moustache strode in. The crowd at the trainstation parted like hot butter cut with a knife for him, some nodding respectfully to both and him and the young boy at his shoulder. While all the people Steve had seen so far had worn rough, practical clothing, the pair were in suits. The two were so different; the older man looked cold and uncaring, his clothes meticulous. It was clear he demanded respect without even having to ask for it. 

The one on the right, however, exuding charm like a magnet, drawing everyone into his aura. There was a twinkle in his eye, a saunter to his step, and his slightly curled brown hair shone even in the dim station. 

So different, yet both of them could march into a room and take control of it, and Curchill himself would let them. It was clear they were Father and son. Everyone was staring at them, looking even more surprised when they came to join the remaining refugees. Suddenly feeling the urge to look smarter and sharper, the boy fixed his posture and tried to look calm and uninterested. The two discussed things in a low voice, eyes occassionally flicking to the remaining children while they debated. Both talked with their hands, the younger pouting adorably when the older man glared. Steve was hooked, reconsidering his previous assumptions about how boring country folk were. 

Eventually the boy's face broke into a grin and he turned to face Steve, gesturing for him to come. "Hey, I'm Tony, by the way, it's nice to meet you. Even if you're younger than me, it'll be interesting to have another boy in the house, Howard wanted a girl, crazy right? We don't need one of those, it'll be boring. I want a brother, never got one. I think I was a bit of an inconvenience, really, Howard probably wrote a pros and cons list of even having a heir."

Steve blinked. 

"Ow!" Tony complained as he was wacked around the back of the head, just hard enough to hurt. "Do shut up, Tony, the little boy is probably scared of you talking so fast. Now hurry up, I'm a -"

"Busy man, yes Howard." Tony finished, the sparkle in his eye dimming slightly. He took the trunk from Steve without asking, carrying it for him. The blond bristled, he was neither a dame that the other wanted to impress or a child, Tony shouldn't just take his bag.

"You sure don't say much." Tony noted, cheerfully enough as they emerged from the small station. 

"You sure don't give me a chance." Steve replied, casually, taking his bag back. To his surprise, the other simply laughed loudly and mimed shock. 

"So you're not a mute!" He teased, stopping in front of a car that was more expensive than Steve's whole flat back in London. They placed Steve's trunk in the passenger seat and climbed into the back. "How old are you exactly?"  
"Fifteen." Steve answered, to which he elicited laughter again.  
"No, really?"  
Steve growled and displayed his tag. Tony whistled loudly, "Are all city kids tiny, Steve Rogers?" The brunet asked, more curious than malicious.  
"No."  
"What's with all these one word answers, did I piss you off already? I tend to do that a lot. I'm sorry."  
"It's fine, I just hate it when people think I'm a little kid." Steve admitted, nudging his new companion to convey his forgiveness. He ignored the fact that his own Mother would have ripped him a new one for using pissed off, but Howard seemed uncaring. Everything was so upside down here. 

So, Steve was wrong about the whole barn thing.

They pulled up at the biggest manor Steve had ever seen, a hundred times his own living space at least. The car crunched on the gravel, and Tony escaped as soon as it stopped. "To science!" He cried, "And also to the kitchen because I think Ana baked apple pie!" He added a second later.  
"Boy!" Howard snapped, and his son cringed and turned around, "What did I tell you about looking after our guest?"  
"Oh yeah, let me just fit that into my schedule along with building a better rifle for the front line, amending tank ideas, helping to look after all of the land and remaining years ahead in my schooling. Sure, no problem."

Howard gave him a look so threatening that Steve shuddered, and he caught Tony's hands shaking. "Fine. Come here, Steve, you could use some feeding anyway." Never having felt more awkward in his entire life, the evacuee slid out of the vehicle and joined Tony while they walked through the huge entrance. "Maybe it'll be good to have you around, it'll be protection." The brunet shrugged at him, making Steve furrow his brow. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

The Londonder decided that he hated Howard when the other boy didn't answer. 

The evacuee soon became aqquanted with the butler, Jarvis, and the cook, Ana, a married couple who Steve immediately got much more parental vibes from than Howard. They fussed over him and removed his coat, loading his plate with cookies and pouring him milk. He felt himself start to relax a little more, it seemed that at least some of the people in this huge house were normal. No offence to Tony, but he was certainly confusing. 

They asked him questions about his home life and his Mother. They discussed where he went to school, to which Tony perked an interest and became an active participant in the conversation. "Do you like school? And cars? We can work in the 'shop together." He suggested excitedly, and Steve wondered if this was because he wanted a brother. Deciding he wanted to be honest, Steve shook his head awkwardly. "I don't like school, or maths and science. I like art though." 

Tony looked crushed and wrinkled his nose. "Fancy picking a nancy boy." He muttered, and Steve frowned, stung. 

"Tony!" Ana chastised, but the newcomer noticed she didn't move to touch him like Howard had done, "Don't be horrible, I know you're not like that. Apologise this istant, young man." Tony looked thoroughly chastised and apologetic, without the fear that Howard had instilled as he raised his hands in surrender.  
"I'm sorry, Steve, that was rude. I was just disappointed that I wouldn't have someone to talk about that sort of thing with." Steve nodded, he had a forgiving nature after all.

"It's alright, it must be lonely living all the way out here by yourself." Tony looked cautious, wary of the topic, but he nodded.  
"Everyone that I go to school with is much older than me, it's not often I get to talk to someone the same age as me. You know, my Mother likes art. We have heaps of easels and paints in a room upstairs if you want some." Steve's eyes bulged and he shook his head frantically.  
"I couldn't! They must cost so much money, Tony." The other boy bit his lip, thinking.  
"Well, you can help me on the farm tomorrow, and then you'll have earned it. How does that sound, Rogers?" Steve paused, rethinking. Tony was much kinder than he initially realised, the other clearly liked to put on a front.  
"Thanks."  
"You won't be thanking me when we're doing all that labour tomorrow." The young Stark promised ominously, stealing another plate of cookies while no one was looking and gesturing for Steve to follow him as they made their escape. 

Steve followed quietly behind him as he was given a tour of some of the major rooms, admiring the design of the place and the art on the walls, awed by the cavernous spaces. Eventually they stopped outside a huge bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. "Here, this'll be yours if it's alright with you. There's a door that connects it with mine." The brunet gestured to a big brown door on the right hand side wall. Quelling his curiosity as to what Tony's own bedroom looked like, normal boys didn't think such things, he thanked him and noted that his trunk was already by his bed. 

"I'm going to change for dinner, I advise you to." Steve blanched, all of his outfits were of similar style. Tony took pity on him and offered him a grin. "You can borrow some of my things, the older ones won't be too big on you, I'm not the biggest guy either." 

Tony's bedroom was absolutely magical. It was filled with colourful lights, covered in blueprints and projects. He had a floordrobe over the carpet, a huge desk and a large bed with rumpled sheets. He spotted pictures of Tony with Jarvis, a taller man in a pilot's outfit and a beautiful strawberry blonde woman. The other crossed to the wardrobe, digging around to the back to produce a small dinner suit, with a blue tie. "This'll bring out your eyes, Townie." He grinned, tossing it towards the smaller before promptly looking regretful. 

Maybe Tony thought things normal boys didn't too?

"Thank you."

"See you in ten." They parted ways and washed up, Steve admiring how smart he looked even if the suit hung off him a little. It was still the nicest thing that he had ever worn. There was a knock on the door, and he opened it to see Tony. If the guy had looked good before, he looked better now. He was in a tight fitting black suit with a waistcoat and a slim red tie. His hair was meticulously pushed back, and he offered a smile. "Come on, we don't want to be late, we'll get an earful." They climbed down the stairs (Steve climbed, Tony slid down the banister like the naughty boys at school) and took their places at the dining room. 

Tony's mother, Maria, seemed nice enough, though a bit distant. They had a lovely dicussion about art, nonetheless, and it was nice to speak with someone who was such an experienced collector. Steve made a mental note to take a closer look at the pieces adorning the walls. He felt awkward at the dinner table, but he felt the comfort of Tony kicking him under the table and very obviously selecting his cutlery so that Steve could follow without embarrassing himself. It was startling; he had expected to find himself with a very simple farmer family and here he was using his third fork and eating better than he could ever remember. 

As soon as they were finished and out of the room, Tony had yanked his own tie off and unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt, exhaling. "So exhausting." He complained, and Steve couldn't help but agree.  
"You're very interesting, Steve, but I think it might be time for you to retire to bed. You must be tired from your journey, and the lady at the station said you got sick easily."  
"Sure, are you going to bed, too?"  
"Oh, of course not, I have far too much work to do. Why do you think I haven't signed up? They wouldn't let me. I'm far more valuable building bombs and tanks." Steve's mouth fell open. Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder and loosened his tie for him with a grin. "See you  
tomorrow, Rogers."  
"Goodnight." He managed to get out, somehow managing to navigate the maze of corridors and staircases to get back to his room. 

He changed into his own, familiar pajamas, that smelled like home rather than Tony's things, which felt unfamiliar but not particularly uncomfortable. Steve crawled into the comfortable bed, but couldn't fall asleep. Too many things had happened, he was too agitated. There was a clock by his bed that he could barely make out on the dark. He heard Tony enter his own room around three in the morning. Steve finally drifted into a light, uneasy sleep, having some sort of nightmare which he was pretty sure involved cows.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Please comment below if you'd be interested in more of this! Comments and kudos fuel me lmao.  
> L


End file.
